


Tales of a Stranded Argonian

by Bardic_Bat



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Adventure, Altmer - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Argonians, Dunmer - Freeform, Elder Scrolls Lore, Eventual Happy Ending, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Minor Character(s), Morrowind, Original Character(s), Other, Peace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 08:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16971342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardic_Bat/pseuds/Bardic_Bat
Summary: Ral-Jai is an Argonian in Morrowind, stranded there under strange circumstances and given direction by Azura in her dreams- even though she had never encountered the daedric prince before bring shipped to Morrowind.Now she strives to find new meaning in a harsh, uninviting land while still pursuing the mystery of Azura's words.A few of her tales are collected here, detailing her adventures in Morrowind.(this is essentially a bunch of ficlets about my experiences playing Morrowind)





	Tales of a Stranded Argonian

“It is a good night for sleeping, outlander.”  
She jumped, twisting away from the sky full of stars and lights to see who had addressed her. A guard stood nearby, helmet tucked underneath his arm. His gaze was upwards, observing the night sky, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.  
“Apologies, I did not hear you coming,” the lady said, smiling sheepishly. The guard chuckled, looking down. The telltale red eyes of a Dunmer glowed in the moonlight. A bit of pale blonde hair had fallen from his topknot, dangling in his face idly.  
“It’s alright. It’s not often I get a moment to myself,” he shifted, looking beside her, “May I sit next you?”  
“Of course,” she graciously said. He squatted and sat, placing his helm beside himself. His feet dangled next to her’s over the river.  
For a moment the two day in silence. It was a chill night, with s light breeze that carried the scents down from the Ashlands - fires and herbs, meat being singed. Only the fires would be smelled by the human races.  
The trees seemed to hum around them, buildings settling and creaking, the light footfalls of some third or beggar out this late with no home to go to.  
“I have a family,” the guard states simply, still staring upwards, “A wife and two children. They live a little ways out of Balmora, you know. Just over the river, in a spot in the hills. I don’t see them very often, but I try to make time. We get moved around a lot. I just came from a stint farther inland. What about you, lizard? What about your family?”  
She paused at that, feet that were swinging going still.  
“My family?”  
“Yes, you do have one right?”  
“Of course,” she scoffed, “My egg siblings are back in Blackmarsh. Or so I hope. I have not seen them in many years. One egg brother and two egg sisters,” she sighed, “I do not hear from them.”  
There was a silence again, shorter. The guard seemed to take things in for a moment.  
“I am sorry for calling you lizard. It’s an old habit. I hope your siblings write you sometime. My children send me letters, although the young one’s is hard to make out,” he replied, a tinge of dark colour rising to his cheeks.  
“I am glad they write you,” a pause, full of tension, “I do not think they will write me anytime soon. They do not even know I am here .”  
“How did you end up here?” The question hung in the darkness, caught on the wind and nearly blown away before she could snatch it from its spot.  
“A good question. It was a long series of events, and I do not wish to waste a good night for sleeping on them.”  
The guard nodded, understanding not to push further. A fish in the river splashed water up to their ankles, freezing them to the bone.  
Neither flinched.  
“You should be in bed. The city is safe.”  
“I am restless. I miss the marshes back home. Your marshes do not compare. Where are the trees? The insects? The buzzing of wings? Scale mates?” she lamented, glaring at the clouds that passed languidly by.  
“Why do you stay?” He glances towards her, and then away, afraid of being caught stealing a look.  
“I do not know. I have ended up in a strange place, with new smells, under stranger circumstances. I do not think I can return until I am finished here. Even then, this place may not let me return alive.”  
She quickly turned her head, before gazing into the river. It flowed, steady as always, never changing in its direction or purpose.  
“I am sorry. One should not be tied to a land they have no love for,” he began to shift, as if to get up when she spoke.  
“I have love for this place. It is unusual, frightening, dangerous and harsh. It reminds me much of home, in those regards. I see the beauty here, even in the Ashlands,” she coughed, placing her hand gently on his pauldron, “Have you ever been that way?”  
He stopped moving, and shook his head.  
“No. I can smell their fires from time to time though.”  
“You cannot smell the herbs they hang to dry over the flames, or the scents they create to burn. Your land is not home to me, but I still do love it. It has taken much time to get to see the beauty, but I am glad I can see it,” she paused, tilting her head, “Perhaps one day there will be peace between us and you can see the marshes.”  
“Perhaps. I have always wondered what they are like...”  
They both trailed off into their own thoughts, before he rose, and bowed his head. A silent thanks for a moment by the riverside with someone.  
He left a small cloth pendant with her, a inscribing of one of the Dunmer saints. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like St. Meris, the Peacemaker.  
She smiled down at it, and hung it carefully from one of the chains on her horns.  
Sometimes all you needed was a moment under a chill night sky.


End file.
